Hard As Stone
by IncognitiveSky
Summary: Steven faces off against Brendan in a showdown, but wants to raise the stakes of their fight. Rated M for MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY. Warnings: Tentacles/bondage, graphic/implied smut, noncon, voyeurism.


**Hard as Stone:**

_~ Disclaimers: I do NOT own Pokémon or anything associated with it._

_~ Warnings: Tentacles/bondage, graphic/implied smut, noncon, voyeurism _

Steven reclined back leisurely into his black leather office chair behind the work desk that had been especially set up for him on his raised side of the stadium. Most of the time, he never fought his opponents standing face to face because he had always found this option to be much more comfortable and commanding. In battle, he was known to be solid, immovable. Hard as stone.

This particular battle he was presently engaged in, however, was wearing on his attention and turning so stale that he could almost taste it.

"What say we up the stakes to make this battle a little more interesting?" Steven offered his challenger mildly: a young and bright-eyed trainer who hid his neat, flat, richly dark hair under some novel-looking cap that looked more of a ridiculous hairnet to Steven, and who had introduced himself as 'Brendan'.

"What are you talking about?" Brendan asked, warily.

"Personally, I find these same old, run-of-the-mill, cookie-cutter battles _dreadfully_ boring. There's just no buzz for me in a regular match. But if the trainers _themselves_ were involved in the fight however…now _that_ would be interesting, wouldn't you say?"

"Trainers being involved…as in the trainers fight as well?"

"Indeed. I have met, seen and fought more trainers than you can imagine, and too many of them take their Pokémon for granted. They dish out commands to their Pokémon without any care as if they were ordering from the breakfast menu at a fast food house. The Pokémon are _always_ the ones that suffer the injuries in battle, incurred as a result of their trainer's poorly thought-out decisions and mistakes. It's so much like a clump of clueless nine year olds playing card games that it's sickening."

"You have Pokémon and you fight too. Aren't you exactly the same?" Brendan pointed out.

"No." The concise answer was like the crack of a whip and salted in frigid disdain.

"Those who would fight side-by-side with their Pokémon are the true trainers. They acknowledge the physical toil their Pokémon endure every day for them and are prepared to submit themselves to that very same peril. Such an action fosters a level of trust, understanding and comradeship between trainer and Pokémon unattainable by any other. I am such a trainer, willing to share in the burdens I ask my Pokémon to shoulder.

But what of you, Brendan? Do you have the resolve to take a place amongst the purest and greatest of trainers and fight with your Pokémon? Be well warned, this means that you will be subjecting yourself to be a target for my Pokémon's attacks and it will be taken as fair game. Do you accept these battle conditions?"

Brendan did not hesitate for even the span of a blink.

"I accept."

The trainer from Littleroot moved forward onto the battlefield to stand beside his Swampert, unafraid and unshaken.

Steven's mouth sparked into a genuine smile of respect, the warmest gesture he had displayed so far. Rolling his seat back, he rose up and strode down the steps of the raised platform his desk was mounted upon to join his Cradily, which hunched forward facing Brendan and Swampert, poising itself to strike.

"Then let's continue the fight!" Steven boomed out. "Cradily, use Constrict!"

Brendan flung himself sideways, somersaulting out of the way as Cradily's tentacles lashed out at him with enough deadly force to leave pressure cracks in the floor where they struck.

"Swampert, retaliate with Muddy Water!"

His amphibious companion launched a powerful, murky torrent from its mouth at Steven, but Cradily moved in front of its trainer to take the hit instead.

"Hyper Beam!" Steven thundered.

Recovering from Swampert's attack with remarkable speed, his Cradily conjured up a glowing sphere from which a shaft of brilliant energy burst forth, squarely impacting Swampert and cueing a dismayed shout from Brendan. The Mud Fish Pokémon was knocked clean into the air before it landed on the ground again, skittering, and did not get up again.

"Swampert is unable to continue," the referee decreed. "That leaves one combatant remaining on the challenger's side."

Brendan rushed frantically over at once to his immobile Pokémon's side in concern, but it quickly became clear that that was a mistake as he heard Steven call out behind him, "use Constrict, again," and before he could react, the Cradily's extended feelers enclosed around his torso in a hold that was anything short of loose.

Lifting Brendan up off his feet and from the ground, the feelers turned him around so that he was again face-to-face with his detainer and Steven, the latter of whom was looking quite smug.

"Got you this time," Steven smiled, "and don't bother," he added, as Brendan fought impressively to break free of the Cradily's multitude of long and winding clasps. "A Cradily's appendages possess enough force to crush a human skull. So try not to _squirm_, if you can."

But squirming was exactly what Brendan couldn't help but do, as the tentacles slipped underneath the bottom of his shirt to slide lazily across his bare abdomen. A few others trailed along his spine making him shiver involuntarily and he tried to bend away from the intrusive, slimy things as much as he could with his resistances largely inhibited.

More tunneled their way into his shirt through the sleeves and collar and even into his pants, until all of Brendan's clothes were bulging with cord-shaped protrusions as his body was touched all over by the elongated limbs.

Steven turned away, ascending the steps back toward his desk where he reseated himself and looked down at his pinned opponent.

He reached over to pull a covered solid silver platter, as clear and polished as a mirror, across the table toward himself from seemingly out of nowhere. With theatrical relish, he flipped the identical cloche to unmask a block of raspberry and white chocolate waffle pudding generously drenched in custard cream.

"I do apologize," Steven said courteously to Brendan. "I know that the middle of a battle is hardly the time, but it's just that I have this unbearable sweet tooth and it never seems to be satisfied." He picked up a spoon, silver too, and dug himself out a scoopful of the dessert which he promptly devoured.

Loitering around at the waistband of Brendan's pants, several of Cradily's tentacles carefully edged them down somewhat despite his startled outcry; not all the way but just enough to expose the young trainer's uninterested beacon of flesh. A gentle sigh of bliss escaped Steven and he helped himself to another spoon of pudding.

"Mmm…Delicious."

A tentacle playing at the back of Brendan's head looped around the side of his face to pry his unwelcoming lips apart, worming its way into another portion of his body that had yet remained untouched, and began to slide in and out in an obscene mimicry of a kiss, its tip butting against the trainer's tongue.

Steven saw Brendan look desperately toward the referee in silent imploration for him to put an end to this but the referee had turned his head away, respectfully averting his eyes from the risqué nature of the match. In any case, it was clear that he had no inclination to declare the match over any time soon, not so long as a combatant was still conscious. Thus, Brendan was left to suffer this unusual application of Cradily's Constrict.

Steven observed the tentacles in Brendan's pants close in on the only other area of his body down there that they had not tainted with their contact so far, and had probably been saving for last. Brendan's teeth stamped together to suppress whatever noise he was about to make as his last ounce of untouched territory was rapidly taken from him.

His sugar-based dining progressing by the sweeps of his spoon, Steven did not cease his observance of Brendan who was now struggling to cope with what was contentiously the most invasive contact the dual Rock and Grass type could possibly initiate with him.

Furthermore, it was unquestionably obvious that Brendan's body was no longer uninterested in what was happening and Steven grinned as he beheld the bold proof before him, deciding to end the battle then and there.

"I think it's about time that I finish this," Steven told Brendan, and directed at his Cradily one simple order.

"Giga Drain."

"No! W – Wait!" Brendan yelped in panic as the Fossil Pokemon's fluid and extensive limbs bolted down his chest and crept up his thighs, all homing in towards the centrality of exposure which they had earlier unveiled until his lower front abdomen vanished amidst a coalesces of intensely poring tentacles.

"Mr. Stone..." Brendan breathed, nearly whimpering as Cradily worked on him with its Giga Drain; its churning and slithering appendages staunchly drawing him out with detached intention. There was no emotion on its part, only cold physiology.

Steven's eyes widened, surprised and flattered. Had the boy just called out his name?

"Mr. Stone!" Brendan's ultimate exclamation was the loudest of all; a wild and vocal expression of pure exhilaration that made Steven's jaw clench in addicted hypnotization. The mouthful of custard that he had been on the brink of swallowing burst instead from his lips, creamy streaks of it dribbling down his chin.

"Mr. Stone?"

Steven's head jerked sideways against the plumpness of his pillow and he suddenly found himself lying in his bed with drool instead of custard on his face and the sheets twisted around his being. Unfocused for a smidgen of an instant, he blinked in the fresh morning light that poured through his window but started as a feminine voice called softly to him again through his bedroom door.

"Mr. Stone? You have your nine thirty with the RM's in half an hour."

"Yes…Thank you, Julia. I will be dressed and ready in a moment," Steven called back to his assistant with as much crisp, formal authority he could muster.

Shifting on his mattress to raise himself up, he sensed the bed covers drag snugly against the waist of his Beldum pajamas and grimly realized that he was hard as stone. He ran his hands over his face and through his sleep-distorted baby blue locks in amused frustration.

Ever since he had run into that boy in the cave who had sought him out to deliver that letter to him, Steven had not been able to push him from his mind. The way that he had come up to him had intrigued Steven at once. Most people approached him with awe and deference as befitting his status as Champion, but _he_ had come to him relaxed and with a quiet confidence, but nevertheless polite. He clearly had no idea who Steven was, and that notion had amused him.

Steven reminisced how the first thing he had noticed was that the boy's eyes were a uniquely piercing quality of rose that were undoubtedly fierce enough to scorch when angered. They brimmed with a liveliness and intelligence that he only saw in the most skilled trainers and it seemed to Steven that the longer he looked into those eyes, the better he knew him.

Steven exhaled a sigh of frustration. Just thinking about him again was unsettling him even more, like remembering an itch he had forgotten to scratch, but was unable to reach. With a great effort, he shelved the mysterious ruby-eyed trainer in his mind and turned toward the bathroom.

Maybe if Arceus was kind, he would get another chance to see the boy again soon.

_A/N: Reviews and comments are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!_


End file.
